"Markabee be my name," the old man said, "gardener I were at Lord Reldewood's place, near Smarden in Kent, though I be Sussex born and bred."
There was interrogation in his still, bright eyes.
"My name is Homewood, Allan Homewood!"
"Then you be the young master, the old master be a proper fine man and a thorough gentleman!"
Allan laughed. "I hope that you will be able to say the same of me, though I warn you, Markabee, I am not such a fine man nor so good a gentleman as my father!"
"That may be, that may be!" said Markabee. "One finds out, one does, for one's self. But I be one as speaks as I du find and I say the old gentleman be a proper fine man, free handed moreover and pleasant of speech!
"Very late in the season, it were," Markabee went on. "May, pretty nigh out, when I du come to this garden. Powerful difficult it were to make much of a show, as I did say to Mr. Dalabey. 'Never mind,' says he, 'du your bestest, Markabee, for you be working for a proper fine gentleman who don't mind a little bit of extry money here and there, so be he gets what he du want!'"
Allan nodded. Not for all the world would he hurt the old fellow's feelings, but he could wish old Markabee safely off to his work in the garden, leaving him here to his dreams in the sunshine.
But not so Markabee. For he was old and had seen many things and many gardens; old and garrulous was he and eager above all to make a good impression on the young master!
"Things I hev seen and changes," he said, "you wouldn't believe, and now—how old might you take me to be, eh, young sir? What aged man would you say I were?" He pulled himself up erect as a grenadier, and his bright old eyes twinkled, while the long whisps of white hair fell about his copper coloured face.